


Three Nights

by Marquise



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-09
Updated: 2012-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:32:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/400979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marquise/pseuds/Marquise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've been married three days when Sansa decides she's going to kill her husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Nights

**Author's Note:**

> ASOIAF Kink Meme Fill

**First Night**

Harry’s not a bad man, honestly (and she knows of bad men).

She thinks this as she settles into her marriage bed for the first time, a blushing bride. She almost has to applaud herself on how well she plays the innocent maid (and she can truthfully say that she can claim the title of maid, at least) and Harry looks at her with the same open expression and easy grin he wore throughout their courtship. He’s drunk, moreso than she is, but in a cheerful way that seems to be a part of his very nature. She feels that even though she has spent relatively few hours with him, she knows him.

He is all practiced chivalry. He dances, he hunts, he flirts (too often, though she decided that so long as no bastards are thrust on her she can deal with this). He’s polite and charming and handles her with gentle care.

The entire act is less amazing than she had expected. It’s not as painful as she had anticipated either, and she finds herself almost in awe at the bizarre exertions he makes, his twisted faces.

He seems to be satisfied though, and falls asleep soon after. She listens to his snores and hopes that he at least managed to get her with child.

**Second Night**

The second night is much the same. He comes to her in the evening, and the talk preceding the act is small indeed.

When he kisses her she marvels at the fact that he is older than her but, really, such a boy.

She wonders, bizarrely, if he had ever even seen a man killed.

She almost asks, but finds it easier to just smile and lean in. She’s no longer playing at Alayne but she’s still acting, really. She looks into Harry’s eyes and sees the wife he wants, the wife he expects, and bites her tongue.

She should be happy, she knows, as he brushes her hair from her eyes and kisses her deeply as he enters her. When she drags his hand down to where they are joined and has his fingers work against her he doesn’t object. He brings her off just before he comes, and the shock that jolts through her body is better than anything she could give herself.

Afterward he kisses he deeply and she hates herself for wondering if this is all there is.

**Third Night**

The third night she straddles his hips and pushes him into the mattress.

His gaze is amazed. It’s not the look of someone who never expected this in general, but had never expected it from her.

She regards him dispassionately. Her nails dig into his broad shoulders and she wonders what he would do if she drew blood. If he would react in any way, or if he was just smile his perfect court smile.

Years ago, she would have found that charming. Years ago she would have shunned the notion, and joined him in a genuine smile.

Now though, she can’t see him as anything but insipid and weak. She thinks of the husband and father he will be, the man he will be in twenty years, and realizes that she can read his path perfectly.

She thinks of smiling and pretending and weakening herself for him, reverting to the girl that she was a lifetime ago.

She thinks of how easy it would be to end it all now without question.

She smiles a genuine smile at that and flexes her fingers, planning.


End file.
